Twas the Night Before Christmas
by stars-planets-clocks
Summary: A Hogwart-sy take on the ever popular 'Night Before Christmas'. So, r&r because it won't take more than 2 minutes I promise. Kind of less-than-merry.


Ok, thanks to all who responded so pleasantly to other poems I've posted. This one much is less heavy and   
important-sounding (I hope!). It is a response to Becky's (Hello to her, by the way) request of me that I   
write a poem for the Christmas time of the Harry Potter books. Though she said I could wait until a more   
pertinant time of year to write and post it (ie: Christmas!), I got it all out of my system in one go and  
am posting it now regardless of the fact that it is May.  
  
I've used the very familiar ' T'was the Night Before Christmas ' as a base sound structure   
for it, and the first part of the first line obviously. just to set you up in Christmas   
mood - And then throw you into the moods of some of Rowling's characters. I may possibly   
put extra verses in for other characters than those here if I think of them. This is nothing   
special, and it won't be too cheery either (I can't seem to veer any of my writing in that   
direction). The ending I wanted to put in because I like the way real people can end up   
caring about fictional people. (often so much more than they do for real people...)   
  
OK - Pretty much all of the characters, settings etc depicted/mentioned/put-on-the-pedastals-of-my-mind - belong soley  
to the suspense-merchant (roll on, book 5!) JK Rowling. I will wipe them off and put them back where I found them when I   
am quite exhausted and can delight no more in their quasi-existence.  
  
(I've no idea who owns 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' but it isn't me.)  
  
(Christmas itself, or course, belongs to you, me, and the Sherrif of Nottingham.)  
~  
"T'was the night before Christmas, and in Hogwart's dark halls  
Not a creature was stirring, but within the walls  
Of the common and staff rooms, the dungeons and towers  
We can see how our now well-known friends pass the hours  
  
The few people left should be snug in their beds  
With visions of broomsticks and sweets in their heads  
But most lie awake, or they sit or they pace  
For those who remain have some hard truths to face  
  
The startling green eyes of our young Boy Who Lived  
Seem to dull as he thinks of what he had to give.  
And this tousle-haired boy, his glasses askew  
Sits alone at a window, to sigh out at the view  
  
And the girl who you'd think knew enough by now, quite  
To give it a rest on this one merry night,  
Is flicking her way, by a wand-supplied glow  
Through that large History book, the one we all know.  
  
A boy whose red hair seems to echo the fire  
By which he sits to ponder on what he aspires  
He thinks of his brothers, of all they have done  
And of whats left to him, as the sixth of six sons  
  
And way down below them, in the Slytherin dorm  
Lies musing a downcast and solitary form.  
This child of a sinner must decide what means doom,  
This blonde boy needs to know what to prove and to whom.  
  
Not so far from the young minds that are troubled so,  
Prowls the sleek, dark and cold one, who broods on his woe  
The Master of Potions knows quite well 'Tis the season  
But for him, there's just memories of sins and of treason  
  
Deep in thought, in his office, of the dangers he knows  
Is the OTHER old man with a beard as white as snow.  
His twinkling blue eyes hold the wisdom of years  
And you'd never have guessed at what dark things he fears  
  
A man who seems weary, dressed in shabby, torn robes  
At the first sign of darkness, from his fireside he rose  
Now he stands at the window, face bathed in soft light  
Thanking Merlin that Christmas is no full-moon night  
  
The tortured, thin man with sad eyes and dark hair  
Hides for now from accusers, alone in his lair  
In a form now familiar, four legs and a tail  
This way any listeners hear no human wail  
  
The head of the house streaked with gold and with red  
Has yet to gather her thoughts and take them to bed  
She watches her charges, some more than the rest  
And worries what lies in the path of the best  
  
All these souls and still others litter the castle  
With the worry and wonder that comes part and parcel  
With life in their world of uncertain times  
When it's hard to distinguish between good deeds and good crimes  
  
But their fortunes are changing, and we will soon know  
What becomes of our hero, of his friends and his foes  
We've nothing to give them, we've no way to help  
But to wish them all well, whatever they're dealt  
  
And now with our all wrapped up in this world  
Ignoring our own strife, to see what is unfurled  
To our fictional friends, both the wrong and the right  
We say 'Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!'  
  
~  
  
Ok, so now comes the part where you review. Go. 


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